What Should Never Be
by Pheonicia
Summary: A slashy oneshot about life at Cloud Ruler Temple that should never have been written and should not be read by anyone.  You have been warned.  Rated T for terrible.


_**Disclaimer: **This is not Twist of Fate. If you are looking for anything similar to my other work you will be severely disappointed. Go read a nice story about the Dark Brotherhood, or vampires, or the Main Quest. Run away while you can._

_All characters are owned by Bethesda, though I doubt they'd want anything to do with this._

_And in all fairness I should also warn you that slash is not my cup of tea. This was written because the idea amused so many people I couldn't resist fleshing it out a little bit more. I find it hilarious because it is just so wrong._

_Still here? Then read away. Just remember that you have been warned and brain bleach has not yet been invented._

* * *

It should never have been. 

And yet it had happened, such a wonderful and unexpected thing, in the midst of the Oblivion Crisis. The fate of the world rested in those hands, those skilled hands, and they should have been kept busy saving it.

Instead they'd been kept busy in other ways.

It had started so suddenly. At first he'd told himself that he was merely doing his job, upholding his sworn duties, as he'd found himself watching Martin constantly. It had been so difficult to reconcile the annoyance Jauffre felt whenever the Emperor's Champion returned, to hear Martin lavish such praise on the Argonian as he once more came back triumphant. The Emperor's words could have been taken in so many ways, most of the interpretations causing small pangs of jealousy in Jauffre. He'd never been on the receiving end of them, had never been thanked in such a fashion.

So that night in the library when everyone else was asleep and the two of them struggled to locate a source of Divine blood had been a complete surprise. After Jauffre's suggestion to send the Champion to fetch the armour of Tiber Septim he'd received a smile from Martin in response. But this hadn't been a weary grin or a pleased smirk. His lips, the lips that were so often compressed by stress until they seemingly disappeared, had held an unspoken suggestion that jolted Jauffre to his core.

And as he'd walked over to Jauffre's seat at the table, the smile still in place, it had seemed like an impossible dream. But reality had asserted it's presence as Martin's strong fingers had pressed into his chin, yanking his face upwards, allowing those smiling lips to smother the small noise of surprise that Jauffre had made involuntarily. The kiss had been forceful, hungry, and dominant. And then just as quickly Martin pulled back, a smug look of amusement on his face, before he'd left Jauffre alone in the room completely bewildered and desperate for more.

The small bruise on the underside of his jaw where Martin's thumb had pressed too hard hadn't faded when the Champion returned with the armour of Tiber Septim. Once more the Argonian was greeted with such flowery and heartfelt sentiments that Jauffre felt sick to hear it. Two days the wretched lizard hung around Cloud Ruler Temple, interrupting Martin's work, strutting about training and chatting with the Blades in his arrogant manner, his hissing voice constantly grating on Jauffre's nerves.

But then he'd been sent away once more to ancient Ayleid ruins far in the West. In a way it was worse now. Watching, waiting, wondering, and hoping, Jauffre had been unable to concentrate. Memories of that one brief delicious stolen moment refused to stop plaguing him.

So to find Martin staring at him as he'd glanced up from the parchments on his desk had caused him to almost cry out with surprise. The Emperor was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that same smile on his lips, his blue eyes seemingly dancing with amusement. Unsure what to do or say Jauffre had stood up as Martin had closed the door behind him, a small lock spell idly flung out as he'd walked over to the Grandmaster.

Before he could say anything, ask anything, Martin's finger had pressed against his lips to hush him. Jauffre had yielded to the force of Martin's hands as he'd been guided back until the shelves of the bookcase were pushing into him, the physical presence of the horizontal stripes of the wood against his back reassuring him that this was no daydream.

The kiss had been the same, the same greedy unspoken demands, the same silent command of control. His hands had not been gentle as they'd explored, teased, and laid claim to Jauffre's body. The Emperor had dominated him completely and to Jauffre's pleasant surprise he'd enjoyed every moment of it.

The bruises left by Martin's masterful rough treatment had still been raw and angry when Jauffre found the Emperor waiting for him in his room. The Champion was still out, wandering about in Miscarcand, and Martin was struggling to decipher the final item. This time Jauffre had wordlessly locked the door behind him and made his way over, somehow knowing that he should be the one going to Martin, rather than the Emperor coming to him.

It had been worse and yet better. He'd come to understand Martin's need to cause pain, to torment in so many small ways, and yet he did so without going too far. He'd also come to understand his own need to be on the receiving end, to yield completely and thoroughly to the Emperor's whims.

And so the pattern had continued, stolen moments grabbed whenever possible, always on Martin's timetable. Jauffre knew that he was being used, that his feelings weren't being taken into account, but he couldn't bring himself to end it. Those brief encounters and the lingering pleasurable memories as well as painful physical reminders weren't something he could so easily let go of.

But now it was almost at an end. Martin was sitting beside the fire in the great hall, resplendent in his Emperor's robes, waiting for his Champion to return with the Amulet. Once that happened things would be over. Martin would take his place in the Palace while Jauffre stayed behind. It was never meant to be anything more than a brief interlude. The knowledge hurt him inside.

But when Martin gave him that smile, that wonderful cruel smile, Jauffre couldn't help following him out of the room. It was something he couldn't resist. Even though it was something that never should have been.


End file.
